


Anniversaire

by sunflower1343



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9431321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower1343/pseuds/sunflower1343
Summary: Feilong and Mikhail, seventeen years down the road.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Feilong's birthday is Feb 1, so I'll be posting Feilong fics the next three weeks. This one was a birthday gift for a French Feilong fan. I enjoy writing this pairing because Mikhail is not only powerful and sexy, he's willing to clown a bit to tease Feilong, something sorely needed. Written March 2008.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

Wind whipped at his clothing as the skies grew darker. He could see flashes of lightning over the hills, and a wall of rain advanced toward him.

"Master Fei?"

The voice was older now, but still had a tentative note that he often wished gone.

"What is it, Tao?"

"The rain, sir. You'll get soaked. And ..." Hesitation, again.

"And at my age I can't afford illness? I'm not that old yet." He was only in his forties. He could still destroy most men in a fight.

"That's not what I meant. You're still recovering from that attack last month. I wish you'd start wearing Kevlar."

"It hampers my movement."

"It hampers bullets and knives too. That's the point. No pun intended."

Feilong laughed. "Tao, you mean well as always, and I appreciate your concern, but -"

"But you're going to ignore it as always. I understand. And I'll complain at the next set of bullet holes. Just remember, too many more holes and Sports Illustrated won't want you back for their swimsuit issue."

"The Russian edition, Tao, would still beg for him." Warmth ran through him at the voice, still with a bad accent after all these years.

Feilong saw Tao bow very slightly out of the corner of his eye and suppressed a smile. Those two had come to terms of sorts over the years, but in no way did their relationship approach friendship.

"Mister Arbatov."

"Mister? Only 'Mister'? I don't rate a 'Master' yet? I'm crushed."

"I wish," Tao muttered. " _Mister_ Arbatov, perhaps you could convince him to come in before it starts raining. He doesn't seem willing to listen to anyone today."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of him, Tao."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me. Both of you, go away."

Tao's face fell and his eyes shimmered. Twenty-seven years old and that trick still worked on him. "Tao, aren't you a little old for the wounded kitten trick?"

"Not if it works."

"Oh for... Go on in and make some tea. I'll be in shortly."

"And so will I, so you can make some tea for me too. And since it's our anniversary it would be nice if you didn't give me that cheap American crap but let me drink the good stuff for once."

Feilong stifled a laugh. "Tao..."

"He is mistaken, Master Fei. If you ask me, he simply has a palette that has been dulled by too much vodka, and wouldn't possibly be able to distinguish your fine black teas from instant. I will prepare a fine tea for both of you, nonetheless." Tao bowed deeply to him, and simply sniffed at the Russian and went inside.

Mikhail was anything but hurt. His eyes sparkled and he grinned. "One day I'll earn his respect. Perhaps if we truly married...?" He walked over to join Feilong against the rail that ran along the parapet of their house. 

_Their home_ , Feilong corrected mentally. It had ceased being just a place long ago, ever since the painful memories it contained had been drowned in good ones.

Feilong turned his head slightly, raising his eyebrow. "You always did have a thing for white, but frankly you would look ridiculous in a bridal gown."

"I thought we could both wear tuxes, my sweet, since neither of us has consented to play the female."

"But I'd like a wife..." Feilong teased.

"But you have Tao..." he was teased back, and he couldn't help smiling, even as his hair was tossed about him by gusts of wind, stinging his face.

Mikhail's right hand brushed it aside, holding it back from Feilong's face. His left took Feilong's hand in his. "Ah. Feilong, your smile wins against the storm. It is the only sunshine needed."

"You are ridiculous. I have no idea how you convinced me to choose you."

"And stay with me for seventeen years. I must have _something_ about me you enjoy." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"You do." He pressed his lips together and turned back to the storm, knowing what his lover's face looked like, a puppy dog waiting silently for praise. Something made him give in for once. "You dared, Mikhail, when no one else did. You thought it worth the risk. But most of all, I think, you knew I needed someone to laugh with. You are not half so silly as you make out to be around me. We haven't been together for so long without me seeing that." _And you and Tao don't bicker quite as much when I'm not around either._

He turned his back to the storm, grabbing his hair and tying it in a quick knot that would have Tao swearing come morning. "Even if you were just that, I'd love you. But you're so much more." He found himself jerked forward into Mikhail's arms for a deep kiss, his emotions still rising and crashing within the way they did in the beginning, but they were emotions he'd come to treasure. He and Mikhail were equals, very different men, but respecting each other. Love from him was worth everything, because it had taught Feilong to love himself.

Feilong pushed backwards a little, Mikhail leaning after him and trying to nibble. "I was thinking of cutting my hair short. What do you think?"

That made Mikhail pause, slightly shocked. "What of your father? Didn't you grow it long in his memory?"

"I did. But really, I think my life now stands as a better tribute, don't you agree? I don't need hair to tie me to the past any longer."

"But... but..." Mikhail looked like he was about to cry.

"What's wrong, Mikhail? You won't like me without my long hair? That's rather fickle of you. Perhaps marriage is a bad idea then."

"No! No, you can cut it. If you must. If you really feel the need. To do this thing that's really just symbolic since you've already changed and seems like a silly statement when you think about it. But sure. You have my support. Go ahead. Chop off that beautiful hair that's come to represent to me the threads that bind us. Cut away." The torrent of not very convincing words paused. "Can I have it?"

Feilong again felt laughter bloom inside and burst free. "You're really an idiot. I'll hold off on the haircut. Maybe just put it in buns or something until you beg me to chop it off."

Mikhail gave a rather theatrical sigh. "You won't regret it."

He offered a gift, in return for the laughter. "You're right, you know. Of all the paths I could have taken I'm pleased I took this one, Mikhail Arbatov, because you have been walking beside me and made me see the joy of it. Now, let's go back inside and have some tea. I'm feeling a bit chilled." 

He held out his hand and Mikhail took it but remained quite still, keeping him from moving away. "I love you, Feilong. Even after all this time. Just when I think I can't love you more, I do."

"I know." He smiled. "I _know_ it." 

Feilong tugged Mikhail's hand and this time he followed. They turned their back on the storm, not caring about it because to the threads that bound them it was no more than a feeble wind, and they continued down their path, hand in hand.

 

~end~


End file.
